Worthwhile
by AwesomeLass
Summary: "Oh, ho-ho," he laughed cynically, "I've hit a nerve, have I? You know, even a Mudblood like yourself should set her sights higher than that wea—" It was then that the bookworm finally reacted, though not in the way Draco had hoped. *A tale about unrequited, or perhaps merely undiscovered, love.*


It would have been a lie if Draco said it wasn't Hermione's hair the first thing he noticed about her when they met that fateful day at Hogwarts years ago. In fact, her hair had always been the first thing he noticed about that girl. There wasn't anything special about it, it simply stuck out: it was a giant, bushy, tangled mess of chocolate curls. And no matter how 'tame' it became over the years, you could still recognize her by it from afar.

Even now he knew it was her on the other side of the long hall; he saw Granger walking briskly with a giant pile of books in her embrace. She looked ridiculous. Typical, of course. He wasn't surprised to see her alone, not when the library was so close— Potter and that ginger dog always did their best to stay away from this place.

She must have noticed him, too, because she quickened her pace even more. It wouldn't be the first time she hurried out of his sight. A peculiar thing, Draco always thought. Whenever she did this, it was almost as if she wasn't as sure of herself when Potter or Weasley weren't around; a feature indicative of weakness, and it suited her lineage just fine.

Though, Draco supposed she couldn't possibly be as weak as those two she hung around. At the library, she was always helping them complete some sort of assignment on the rare occasion the dogs _did _join her there; it was obvious she probably helped them when they were in their little hidey-hole of a common room. She did get better marks than either of them— then again, the knot-head got better marks than anyone he knew. Even him. So, in that respect, Draco supposed she wasn't all that weak. And by recollection, she certainly did not have a weak arm.

Too bad she was Muggle-born. She had to have _some _flaw, after all. Not that being Muggle-born was her only flaw. She was an intrusive, bushy-haired, proud know-it-all. And if rumors were true, she liked Weasley, which was something Draco would never be able to wrap his head around.

Draco snapped out of his thoughts just as Hermione passed him; he wasn't finished with her yet. Following a gentle flick of his wand, he heard a pile of books collapse on the floor behind him. He turned just in time to catch a glimpse of the exasperated and pompous princess bending over to gather her books—a sight to appreciate for more than one reason. It was a shame indeed the witch didn't have a drop of pureblood in her. He smirked at the unshaped idea his mind made out of Hermione being a born of pureblood, an idea that hadn't yet taken precise shape but one he enjoyed nonetheless.

That's when she turned. She turned and she looked _right _at him as if she knew he'd been starring at her all the while she spent stacking most of her books in a neat pile. Maybe she even knew it was his magic that knocked her books over. His mouth twitched, not knowing whether to grin in success or wince at the thought of having been caught. And just like that, as quickly as she craned her neck to look at him, she stole her gaze from him and back to her precious books.

That was it? No snooty comment, no piercing glare? No, no, no, no and no. Draco was having none of that. It was his brow's turn to twitch, unable to decide how to go about this. He quickly opted for shoving his hands in his pockets and grinning, already having a plan underway.

"What's the matter, Granger," he teased, with the added venom he always reserved for the little Miss know-it-all, "didn't your Muggle parents teach you how to walk properly?" His grin widened for a long moment in anticipation of a smart retort—but when none came, it faded away. "_Hey_, I'm talking to you!" Nobody ignored Draco Malfoy. Nobody. _Especially_ not _her_. "Guess they didn't teach you any manners, either," Draco said. The lower lids of his grey eyes rose to throw her a glare of his own; how dare she ignore him? He marched toward her and just as she managed to lift up her books a mere centimeter, he shoved them firmly against the ground with a hand and promptly set a foot on the stack as he stood tall above her. "I asked you a question, Granger."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, annoyance in full bloom. She tried once more to lift the stack, but her efforts were to no avail, as Draco steadily held it in place. "Stop it, Malfoy."

Draco grinned, enjoying her request a little too much to notice the witch's shaky voice. "You could stand to be a little nicer, Granger, you might just get your way."

The Muggle-born stood and inhaled silently, as if gathering enough courage to speak. "Not now, Malfoy, _please_."

Oh but Draco wasn't about to let her take a shortcut with this newfound deference of hers. "It's about time you started showing respect to your superiors, bookworm," he said coolly, steeling himself for the battle of words to come. But it never came. In fact, she never even bothered to look up in order to glare at him. There was no glare, no menacing look. Nothing. "Come on, Granger," he began, knowing which buttons to push, "you can't be that upset over Weasley snogging some other bitch than you. He _is_a filthy dog, after all."

She made a move to rescue her books to leave, but he bent his knee forward, accentuating the control he had on them, a point she did not miss. "_Not_ now, _Mal_foy," she warned, instead.

"Oh, ho-ho," he laughed cynically, "I've hit a nerve, have I? You know, even a _Mudblood _like yourself should set her sights higher than that wea—"

It was then that the bookworm finally reacted, though not in the way Draco had hoped. Hermione pulled him forcefully by his tie toward her and pointed a very frightening wand at his neck. It wasn't unfamiliar of her to do something like this, violent temper as she had, but she had never done anything like it outside of the company of Potter and the ginger dog. Needless to say, it surprised him.

"I said, _not now_," she repeated, apparently having decided she'd waited long enough for him to act.

The moment of panic gone, Draco inwardly relished in the satisfaction he'd gotten a rise out of Hermione. It was amusing, to say the least. "Or what? You'll deal me in like you did last year?"

At this, the Gryffindor tightened her grip on his tie. Only now, when his face was as close to hers as it had ever been, that he noticed how _pink_ the tip of her nose was, and how swollen, how _red_ and blotchy her eyes were. He studied her face, something he never did with anyone else save the bookworm on occasion, and wondered for a moment if he'd gone too far. It wasn't like him to feel bad, and he didn't exactly feel bad… It was just that… It was just… His grey eyes darted to her muddy ones and learnt that she, too, seemed to be studying him. His brows jerked together for a second, doubting, questioning whether he had imagined her eyes lingering on his lips just as _his _eyes had on _her_ lips not long ago.

"You're not worth it," she said after releasing her grip on his tie and tucking her wand under her arm, before kneeling down to finally pick up her books.

As she said these year-old words that echoed from that ginger's head to hers, Draco understood he _had_ gone too far. He _had_ hit a nerve. He removed his foot from her precious stack of books and angrily stepped back, pressing his tie on the very spot she had moments ago held hostage, against his shirt. He watched as she balanced the books once they were neatly back in her arms and she was standing, unable to stop himself from thinking he could have… wishing he _had _done something differently.

"Neither is he," Draco heard himself say. For the first time during their exchange, Hermione intentionally looked up to his eyes. The two froze there for a single, intimate instant, before she quickly gathered herself as tidily as she had her books and left his side. He watched her leave, shoving his hands in his pockets once more just as she turned the corner. A snarl returned to his lips, this time more bitter and awake than ever before.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! Please R&R, I promise to give you virtual cookies if you do ;)  
I had originally planned for this to be a one-shot fanfic, but I'm not too fond of stories that  
don't quite end happily. So, if there is enough support, I might turn this into a longer story.  
I don't know. We'll see. Let me know if you care to see the original image on dA.

Characters and world belong Rowling.

Again, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.


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